


noceur

by KallMeKam



Category: My Chemical Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24072460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KallMeKam/pseuds/KallMeKam
Summary: This is just what I've written in sad boy hours. Didn't know what fandom to put it in LMAO
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. hard liquor mixed with a little bit of intellect

You think you bested me, but you’d be dead wrong.  
I see past that ghost of a wall you’ve built, and you’re transparent as ever.  
It’s hard to notice repetition, but you are obvious and unjustifiable. You continuously make the same mistakes, dig up the same excuses, and uncover the same results. You trudge through the repercussions. Wash, rinse, repeat. Wash, rinse, repeat. Wash, rinse, repeat. When will it ever be enough for you? When will you realize all the mistakes you’ve ever made are one and the same, and you have been walking the same road for almost ten years? 

I am tired of waiting. Exhausted, is a better word. Trapped in this cage of repetitive motion has drained me of any energy I once held within a thin, wired frame, the energy I used to properly deal with you. Keep this up, and you must be disposed of. You seem to know that and disregard any feelings I hold on the matter, or you don’t own two brain cells to rub together. 

I cannot fathom how you could possibly feel upset about the information you have obtained from any body language or tone I hold towards you in my voice. There are seven billion people on this earth, and you are the only one whose hands are stained with the blame. Do not bother me with your petty anger, I am no longer amused. 

It’s like being alone in a crowded room. When I am with you, I might as well be by myself. When I speak, I might as well be talking to a wall. You purposely build me back up, just to unintentionally tear me right. back. down. again. 

Mother. Mom. Mommy. Mum. Mama. Ma.  
Gee. What a title.  
I want to tear it from your cold, dead hands. You are no longer fit to continuously regain the label you were once graced with and so badly desire.  
I must determine whether it is more tiring to forgive and forget, or acknowledge and ignore.  
But, I am so exhausted with carrying your baggage seemingly alone, never able to take rest.  
And I don’t think I would like to do it anymore. 

Drain yourself dry, and see if I care.


	2. (if you cant live without me) why aren't you dead yet?

Stuck in the limbo of not being able to carry on any longer and being so exhausted of those who stick around that you can't do anything but sit.   
And the longer you sit the more fumbled your brain gets. There's no longer anything for you to do but wait for the release you'll never get because only you can give yourself the release you've been waiting for. Head moving in circles, you'll never reach your obvious conclusions. They sit right in front of your face, and you'll never see them because not to mention your blindness, you never seem to do anything right even when you _can_ see. You let everything pass you by because you think you're content to sit idly by while opportunities fly past.   
It's _infuriating_ to know what stops everything and still not be able to put everything back into motion again and again, and again.   
And then you are nothing, nothing, nothing and just like any common word, if you stare at it long enough it looks wrong, wrong, **wrong.**


	3. it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.

As loud as I can be, I wish I knew how to _scream._  
And as much as I can talk, I wish I could _speak._  
As big as my vocabulary, I wish I had the _words._  
As indestructible the thread is from which my lips are sewn shut,  
I continuously try to pull them apart in a vain attempt to _reach out._  
My fingertips _stretch,_ and they reach.  
I claw in agony but grasp nothing but air.  
I come just short, yet again.   
A moment’s hesitation is all it takes to realize  
That I can’t _breathe,_  
That I can’t _see,_  
That I can no longer _feel_  
the smooth, shiny material I once rest my fingers upon.   
That I am gasping for air and all for nothing   
because my mouth. won’t. open.   
And I know now that this is it, this is my end, but that faint, white light is still there.   
Maybe someone will find my ghostly pale skin   
sticking out from the brick in the wall, and I’ll be yanked out if only for a moment.   
A few minutes of air is all that I need.


	4. Act I; when there's nowhere else to run

everything i have ever held in my hands has been momentary.   
in fact, i am not quite sure i ever really had it.   
but you,   
i was convinced i had you.   
once, you said it with words, and i knew i was yours.   
you had shown me, proven it to me, even after.

but i wanted the words.   
i thought it could be finalized with those words of yours.   
i shouldn’t have poked and prodded,   
because maybe then,   
i would still be yours, and you would still be mine. 

all because i needed validation,   
ive grown distant to everything i wanted to keep close to me.   
maybe im not good enough.   
so below expectation,   
that you had to prove to me that i could finally be content,   
for the purpose of stripping all my hope away from me. 

because you were all i needed,   
and all ill ever need.


	5. the glass just reflects the scar

I always feel one step behind,   
And one step closer.   
I don’t even know where I am going,   
Or where I am trying to go.   
Nothing is ever certain.   
Nothing is ever rock solid. 

I think if you run out of things to hold on to,   
You will cease to exist, in a sense.   
A part of me wishes to stop holding on to what little is left to grab. 

But I know I have reasons, even if they are unidentifiable.   
Reasons to stay. 

Sometimes I feel like I don’t have those reasons.   
Like maybe, just maybe, I could finally fall into abyss,   
And nobody would bat an eye. 

For brief moments in time, I do wish I would cease to exist.   
Everything becomes too hard to do,   
Too much to handle. 

However the crippling fear of leaving behind   
No trace in prominent memory  
Shakes me to the core.


	6. Act II; i wanna stand up, i wanna let go

i’ve grown to hate myself for hating you,   
because i want to be around you,   
and i hate that you want to be around anyone else. 

and i know this time it’s me.   
all these people were my friends,   
i laid claim on these people i cared about so dearly  
way before you climbed into my picture  
and tore my mentality apart. 

causing inner conflict that im starting to think i can’t bear to deal with.   
talking about you,   
looking at you,   
thinking about you,   
being around you,   
_caring_ about you hurts. 

it hurts so bad  
and i don’t want it to hurt anymore.   
but i dont think i can bear to let go of you.


	7. hiraeth

every morning, you wake up empty,  
and must fill yourself up again.   
the void only grows stronger with each unconsious moment,   
and you must continue to refill it,  
every. single. day. 

theres something that could plug it up, surely, but  
it is no longer there.   
maybe it never is or was,   
or maybe you just cant find it.

but it wont return to the naked eye, at the very least,  
and youre left to cope with the absence of a home that no longer is,   
or was,   
or ever will be.


	8. love like woe

I am trying to figure out how it is possible  
For someone to fill a void i didnt know i had.   
The emptiness doesn’t cease to exist,   
It simply seems to have shrunk it it’s size and weight.   
I am glad to have found this,   
Though i am afraid i may rely too much. 

It is a value i have been searching for,   
But i cant seem to accept   
any aspect.


	9. Act III; i've got soul, but i'm not a soldier

I knew these people.   
I did.   
And they knew me, and they were my reason. 

And how dare you,  
How dare you put yourself in that position,   
In becoming friends with my friends,  
and putting me on the backburner,   
Just to let me fly out of your life in finality?

And for you to go out with _my friends_  
On _my birthday?_  
I failed to get a birthday wish from any of you. 

And after i had been working on _your_ birthday present  
For _months, _  
Because i think you deserve my money and my thoughts.  
I failed to get a present from any of you. __

__I dont know if im that forgettable,  
Or if it’s that easy to pretend i’m not even there._ _


	10. until the next day.

it’s 3:14am   
and you turn to me and you don't say a word  
but i can hear that you want to.   
and i want to say some too,   
because the world is one big box  
and you’re the only thing  
that’s giving me a reason to stay in it. 

i could count a million stars  
for a million reasons  
i should leave all of it behind.   
but for you..  
for you, i think,   
for one moment in time,   
that i could stay. 

until the next day. 

and still, the next day,   
i won’t have any more reasons.   
to stay,   
to go,   
to even process a thought.   
and i have one reason to sit  
and stare  
and wonder.


	11. and if you really think about it..

It is pointless to reach for the stars when nothing you want will ever be yours.   
And it is difficult to feel this way when all you want is to not be alone.   
The only desire is for everything to be good, but things can never be anything but bad.   
You wish to see red instead of the same old blue, but nothing can ever go the way every single cell beseeches it to be.   
And if you think about it hard enough, nothing is the same as it always seemed to be. And it hurts.   
It’s like someone pulled your brain from your skull and flipped it around a few times just to put it back in again.   
There’s nothing at all left to do with this vessel.You process information, in one ear and out the other and when it exits the drum you will feel even worse than you ever did.   
This skin has become tight, and the itch grows greater.  
To be more than you were, or to be absolutely nothing at all. You can pull and scratch, but the epidermis grows taut and there is nothing more for your weakly keratin to grab. 

So tired of being empty, you search to find something to grasp. Struggle, you shall, because there is nothing you can hold onto.


End file.
